The Escape Artist Chronicles
- Part 2 (09.14.00) By: Gayla Walther


i want a big black motorcycle. not a harley, they’re too expensive, and i'm a poor sap. i want to drive fast on remote country roads. i want to feel the wind whip through my long dark hair. i want to feel like i’m doing something, going someplace.

i have come to terms with the fact that i hate the condition of the world that has been created. and in thinking about it and reading about it, there’s not a fucking point in time that i actually like. so, because i have no plan to make a change for the better, because there is no way to make it better, i realize that i gotta accept it, so okay, done. acceptance is laziness, i know, but i’ m finished. i’m finished hearing from people that that’s the way it is, blah blah blah, fuck you all.

i’m at the end of a rope hanging over the edge of a big dark, possibly endless tunnel, and no one knows, or even wants to know what is in the tunnel. i should be shitting my pants because my arm is broken and the other one is slipping fast. i cry for a bit, and beg god to help me, scream for someone to come, but no one can hear me they’re all too busy watching tv or dancing like trained monkeys at a meaningless meet market club, or getting fucked up thinking that they’re being cool, or getting pregnant or herpes, or something stupid and ultimately pointless.

so i laugh to myself knowing that this is what i’ve wanted all my life but have been too coward to do it myself, then i smile and let go.

falling felt like flying. in the air, i turned my body around towards the bottom of whatever it was i was going to hit. my hair was whipping wildly and my limbs felt weightless, my stomach and nerves felt like i was having an intense orgasm. i’m not quite sure how long it all lasted, but when i saw that red light i knew it was over. first i cursed all the religious notions that i had always rejected because i thought i was in hell, fuck hell. when i saw the eyes that were staring down at me i knew that nothing that existed before mattered. the eyes contained everything that i’ve always looked for but never quite found. empathy, darkness, and pain.

i knew they were my eyes, it’s fucked up how you can never see your own eyes and what they hold, you can only see blank reflections in mirrors, and you can only ever feel what is behind them.

but yet these eyes belonged to another. he told me that the hole i fell through was gone and that i was granted my wish to escape the world. i asked him who he was and he said that he didn’t exist. i felt that pain again, that reassurance that the one, whatever the hell that even means anymore, the one, my soul mate or whatever, would never ever be.

out of the billions of people in the world, shouldn’t there be some chances that you might meet the person who is so much like you, that understands and loves and accepts everything about you and you them? i don’t want to settle for second best and fuck hollywood for inventing "true" love. everyone knows that it doesn’t exist, if it did girls wouldn’t dress like sluts and boys wouldn’t whistle at girls, but that’s the game and it never ends and no none really ever wins.

so, i’ll be alone, that seems to be my fate. alone but not lonely is all i want.

so he is gone, the one who shared my eyes. shared nothing ‘cause he didn’t exist. he was probably just lying and went to go fuck his girlfriend because he’s just attached to her and is afraid of being with me because it’s scary to open yourself up all over again.

it doesn’t matter anyway.

where i am the light is red and the sky is dark. the trees are black and twisted and beautiful. there are small hills all around and forests of trees that looked inviting. i walked towards a forest and followed a little path. it lead me through a dark and peaceful woods, to a lighted quiet cabin. i knocked on the door and a tall slim sad eyed girl appeared. she told me that she’d seen too many people that she loved die and that she smoked too much pot and that no one had ever given a damn and that she said fuck it all.

she laughed and looked in my eyes. i said that i understood. and said that my love for people outweighed my hate, but i hated it and they hated me. no one cared about anything other than triviality. so i said fuck it all.

i left and found a cabin that had all my things. my paints, guitar, books and the dark metal fairy with red glass wings. i laid down in the warm bed and fell asleep knowing that i found home.

i dreamed that i was back at my parents house and that they were crying to me when i saw them. it was real. so i can see them when i dream but only if i want to. six hours of another reality, the one i hated, but the one i loved. that was all i needed.


Go To Part 3